


the line

by prettywellfunded



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Being Walked In On, F/M, Femdom, Infidelity, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Rough Sex, Tony is not really a top he just plays one on tv, Trope Subversion/Inversion, my brain says "now for something completely different"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 13:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19296952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettywellfunded/pseuds/prettywellfunded
Summary: Peter thinks it's a line, at first.After all, it'stheline.  The line every successful older guy uses to get into the pants of every pretty young thing."My wife knows. She's fine with it. We have an arrangement, blah blah blah."He thinks it's a line, until Pepper walks in on Tony fucking him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ummmm, I didn't know I was going to write this? I was reading [this infidelity fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19292908?view_full_work=true) and then all of a sudden my fingers were flying? and I wrote a first chapter of what will probably be a relatively short thing - 3-4 parts at most.
> 
> and I have no impulse control so now I'm sharing.
> 
> I DID know I was eventually going to write Tony/Pepper/Peter fic though - I've been enjoying the shit out of it on tumblr when it pops up, and I've always loved MCU Tony/Pepper, tbh.
> 
> I didn't specify an age for Peter, but I'm guessing over 18

Peter thinks it's a line, at first.

After all, it's _the_ line. The line every successful older guy uses to get into the pants of every pretty young thing.

"My wife knows. She's fine with it. We have an arrangement, blah blah blah."

Peter tells himself he's not going to be the moron that falls for that. 

Which is not saying that he doesn't fall for _Tony_. He just doesn't fall for the _lie_. 

Or what he thinks is a lie. Until Pepper walks in on Tony fucking him.

*

Peter does a lot of things that he shouldn't, with Tony.

There's the obvious: he shouldn't be fucking a married man. He shouldn't be fucking his boss. He shouldn't be fucking his married boss who's had paparazzi on his tail since 1970. And oh yeah, he really shouldn't be fucking his famous married boss because he's thirty years his senior.

That's not even the problematic stuff, though.

He shouldn't fuck Tony in the office, in the lab, or on the elevator. He shouldn't fuck Tony in his living room with floor-to-ceiling windows. He really, really, really shouldn't fuck Tony in his marriage bed.

He shouldn't let Tony use him the way that he does. Isn't it enough that Tony is _Tony_? That Tony is famous, wealthy, older, cheating, and that he (or his wife!) could ruin Peter's entire future in a hot second? Isn't all of that enough of a power differential for them?

Apparently not.

Because Peter lets Tony _use_ him. Rough and selfish. It's not a sacrifice. For whatever reason, Peter _loves_ it. Loves when Tony chokes him on his cock or pins him to the nearest surface and fucks him hard.

That's where they're at when it happens – Peter's pinned, head craned back by the grip in his hair, chest pressed down by the hand planted between his shoulder blades, trying not to come as Tony fucks him like a beast. They're on the master bed and Peter is going to blow his wad on an absurdly expensive, dry-clean-only, hard-to-explain-why-it's-missing duvet. 

He's moaning as loud as he can manage while Tony compresses his lungs, which is probably how he doesn't hear Tony's wife until she's five feet away.

" _Tony._ What the _fuck_."

Peter freezes. So does Tony. 

"Oh. Hey, Pep. You're home early – how was Japan?"

Peter's heard Tony be blithe in circumstances that would cow lesser men, but this is ridiculous. Peter's gonna fucking die. Especially since Tony starts to rock into Peter's ass again.

Peter squeezes his eyes shut and tries to disappear.

"Don't 'Pep' me. What the hell do you think you're doing to that poor boy?"

Unbelievably, Tony groans a little and starts fucking Peter harder. "He likes it."

Oh, Jesus Fuck. Did he just SAY THAT??

"Nobody _likes_ to be used like a fleshlight, Tony. You think just because I'm not around, you can forget everything I've taught you?"

……?????

Everyone's gone still again. "It's not…really, Pepper, _he likes it_. Tell her, Pete."

"What the fuck is even happening right now?" Peter asks while trying to suffocate himself in the bedspread.

Tony has some practice deciphering his speech while his mouth is not entirely unobstructed. "Well, my wife came home early and decided to criticize my sexual technique, which is – ow-ow-OW-OW-OW."

Tony's weight is suddenly gone, and Peter turns, grabbing a pillow to put over his junk, and sees Tony on the floor, on his knees, with his ear twisted firmly in Pepper Potts' grip.

" _Fuck_ , Pepper, you're gonna rip one of those off of me some day."

"Well it's not like you use them to listen."

"I listen!"

"Then what part of 'don't be a selfish prick' didn't you understand?"

Peter is…awestruck in the most terrified way. There's a reason he's avoided meeting Pepper like the plague. He met Tony first, one thing led to another, they slipped and Tony's dick slid down his throat, and then Peter, very sensibly, didn't want to be impaled on a Manolo Blahnik.

Everyone who's paying attention knows that Pepper Potts is way fucking scarier than Tony will ever be. It was self-preservation, really.

And now he's naked on her bed, asshole loose from her husband's dick, completely without excuses, and he's not even the one that she's mad at. Not because she holds Tony accountable for keeping his dick in his pants, but because…

Peter's not even sure. He's seriously at a fucking loss.

"I'm sorry, Pepper," Tony says. He sounds more exasperated than repentant.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

Tony's eyes widen. "I'm not apologizing to Peter! He loves it like that!"

"Peter," Ms. Potts says sharply, with her eyes still pinned on her husband. 

Peter's balls try to crawl back into his pelvic cavity. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Has my selfish prick of a husband ever blown you?"

Tony winces.

"…No, ma'am."

"Has he eaten you out?"

Christ, this is getting weird. "No, ma'am."

"Let you fuck him?"

Woah. "Uh…no…ma'am."

"Engaged in any kind of foreplay longer than 3 minutes?"

Her voice keeps getting meaner, but she still only has eyes for her husband. Who seems to shrink with every answer. 

"Uhm. No, ma'am." Not even the first time, to be honest. Peter had been face-down in his lap in record time. "But I've, um. I've enjoyed myself," he tries.

Pepper purses her lips down at Tony. "That's because you're young enough to get hard at a stiff breeze and still coming to terms with hero worship. But he knows better."

Peter opens his mouth to defend his own honor (every man for himself) but…honestly, she's probably right. And she didn't even say it like she was mad at him. Just Tony.

Pepper finally lets go of Tony's ear (Tony breathes out a sigh of relief) and puts her hands on her hips, clearly waiting.

Tony, without looking anywhere but her shoes, says, "Peter, I'm sorry for being a selfish prick."

Peter's at a loss. Things are super fucking surreal. "Um. I forgive you?"

"You don't deserve that," Pepper says flatly. Tony's shoulders hunch. "Go to your corner."

Peter watches, half fascinated, half mortified, as Tony crawls over to a corner that Peter failed to notice holds a cushion. He kneels there facing the wall like a little kid.

Peter's so morbidly interested in Tony that he doesn't realize Pepper's moved in front of him until she touches his cheek. 

He startles badly, and she steps back. "Sorry," she says. Now that she's not scolding Tony, he can tell that she's tired. But her face is soft and her voice is warm. "I should have asked before I touched you. I know we haven't met, but Tony adores you so much, I feel like I know you already."

Peter stares. She's speaking English, but it might as well be Greek.

"I thought…I thought he was lying when he said that you knew."

From the corner, there's a sound, which stops when Pepper snaps her fingers in that direction.

"You know, that…I should have guessed that would happen. Tony's not the best at actual communication." She smiles, tight and exhausted. "I just got off a 14-hour flight from Tokyo, so I am in desperate need of a shower. If you stay, we can talk about this afterwards."

"Um…okay. Sure," Peter says.

In a very different tone, Pepper turns and says, " _You_ , don't move a muscle, whatever he decides. I'll deal with you later."

She smiles at Peter again, strained, and disappears into the bathroom.

It takes Peter all of 90 seconds to decide that waiting around is batshit crazy. He grabs his clothes quickly, without looking towards Tony, and makes a mad dash for the subway.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter's not an idiot, so he knew that fucking his married boss was not like…a _risk-free_ endeavor. 

But he doesn't understand the depth of his stupidity until Sunday afternoon.

The clusterfuck of coitus interruptus happened on Friday. Peter spends Saturday play WoW with Ned (fuck yeah, old school nerdage) and ignoring Tony's phone calls. Sunday morning, he goes grocery shopping and hits a laundromat like a semi-responsible adult, never mind that everything he purchases comes in a box and all the clothes he's washing have been worn at least twice.

It's not until Sunday afternoon that the workweek starts looming in the corner of his eye and he starts to feel ill. 

Peter really loves his job. 

He doesn't think that they'll fire him – Pepper Potts is far too sensible and recognizes a nightmarish wrongful termination suit when she sees one. Plus, they wouldn't want to lose him to the competition. Not to ring his own bell, but there's a reason Tony noticed him in the first place.

But things could get…very fucking weird.

He wonders how tomorrow's gonna go. Peter ignored no less than fifteen calls from Tony over the weekend – is the man going to corner him once he has a captive audience? To say what? Or maybe he'll just pretend like nothing's wrong. He does strike Peter as an ignore-the-problem-until-it-goes-away guy. For personal shit, anyway.

In fact, maybe he'll just avoid Peter altogether. And fuck Peter's life that THAT's the possibility that makes his stomach cramp.

When his alarm goes off on Monday, Peter thinks about calling in sick for three entire seconds. But he really loves his job, and there's no point delaying the inevitable.

*

When Peter arrives at his workstation, there's a sealed envelope propped against his keyboard. His name appears in a tidy, rounded script that Peter instinctively knows must belong to Pepper Potts. It's sure as shit not Tony's chicken scratch.

Peter's absurdly reluctant to touch it. He slouches down into his desk chair and stares. Whatever it says, he's sure it's very polite. She's a nice person, even to people who fuck her husband. Jesus. Who sends a handwritten note after the encounter that they had? Is it in an etiquette book somewhere??

He can't log in to work until he touches the envelope and there's no point touching the envelope without opening it, so eventually he sucks it up and looks inside.

> _Peter,_
> 
> _Thank you for coming in this morning – I've asked Tony to stay off this floor, for the time being, so I hope you have a productive morning, undisturbed._
> 
> _I've cleared my schedule for lunch. Come up to the executive suite at noon. We should talk, just the two of us._
> 
> _Pepper Potts_

Peter reads it three times, then tucks the note back in the envelope and stuffs it in his bag (the LAST thing he needs is a nosy lab mate reading it). Once it's safe and sound, he finds a clear part of the desk to bang his head against on principle.

*

The thing Peter's most ashamed of, in this whole debacle, is that he isn't ashamed.

He thinks he probably should be? He imagines his fifteen-year-old self would be aghast. But that was a long time ago and many, many sexual partners away, and Peter at twenty-five is just kind of sad that everything ended so soon. Three months of fucking Tony Stark is three more than he ever imagined, but wayyyy less than he actually wants.

It's not like he expected this to end in rainbows and kittens, but he was hoping to stretch it out just a little longer.

So Peter feels like he _should_ be slinking to the executive suite with his tail between his legs? But that would be for show. And while Peter's morals have become…let's say, more flexible, he still believes that honesty (…to a situationally appropriate degree) is the best policy.

Therefore, Peter arrives on the executive floor feeling queasy and entirely unsure how to comport himself. 

Ms. Potts' admin doesn't dick him around or keep him waiting, just escorts him directly in to see her. Because Pepper Potts is classy as fuck like that, apparently, and ready for him even though he arrived like…seven minutes early. (Seriously, Parker, how long did you think the elevator would take?)

He half-expected her to be behind her desk, power position, but of course she's curled on the couch instead with her glasses on, green pen in her teeth, blue pen in hand scribbling something on an absurdly tall stack of paper. Her shoes are kicked off on the floor, feet tucked beneath her, and when he comes in, she has to take the pen out of her mouth before she greets him by name.

He's sure whatever she's working on is worth millions of dollars, at least, but she puts it aside like it's nothing.

There's a pizza box on the table from his favorite place. None of this is what Peter expected.

"Are you hungry? Help yourself – Tony told me your order."

"Um. Thank you? You didn't have to do that. It's probably not what you wanted for lunch."

"Are you kidding me? I'll take this over a lunch meeting at Per Se any day."

Peter settles in a chair and watches, a little bemused, as she frees a fat greasy slice from the pie, folds it like a true New Yorker, and neatly shields her designer suit with a paper plate as she digs in. She navigates the strings of gooey cheese like a pro.

His heart kicks against his sternum just a little, like it did the first time he saw Tony laughing with Dum-E. 

If he had the privacy to bang his head a little more, he would.

As it is, he just keeps his eyes on his own pizza until they've each had a slice. Peter's no closer to knowing why the fuck he's here. "So, um. Ms. Potts – "

"This isn't Stark Industries business, Peter. Please call me Pepper."

"Pepper," Peter corrects. The syllables feel weird in his mouth. He's heard Tony say them dozens of times, but never formed them himself. "What, um. What can I do for you?"

Pepper watches him while she finishes chewing and presses a napkin to her mouth to catch some stray cheese. Peter can't hold her gaze for all that long. "Mostly, I just want to know that you're okay."

Peter searches the tone for subtext but finds none. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Um. And you?"

Pepper's face folds into the same fond expression Tony gets when Peter puts his foot in his mouth. "I'm well, Peter, thanks."

"Good. That's good." Christ, kill him now. She probably thinks Peter's a moron.

Peter looks at various _stuff_ on her bookshelves to pass the incredibly awkward time, but does meet her eyes when she eventually speaks. "I really did know and agree before Tony took up with you."

"I know, ma'am. I mean, I know _now_. I just…"

"Tony has a reputation. It's one that he earned fair and square, one he still leans on. One he occasionally uses to hurt himself, if you let him. I don't blame you for the assumption – I just wanted you to know that the…fuss, on Friday, wasn't over you."

"…Okay." There's a lot to parse there and he's not sure he wants to, but, "I mean, it was a little about me, though."

Pepper studies him quietly. "I don't…really have a right to ask you this, but I need to." Oh Christ. "Would you tell me why you're avoiding Tony's calls?"

"Um." Peter's as unable to answer that question as he was to deal with answering Tony's phone calls.

When it becomes clear that's all he's got, Pepper tries again. "Is it too much? Are you done? Or do you just need some time?"

"Honestly, M-Pepper, I don't really know."

Pepper nods slowly and unfolds herself, turning fully towards him and setting her stocking feet on the floor. She leans forward, serious.

Starts to speak, hesitates, and tries again. "It's…incredibly inappropriate for me to ask where your head is at. But…I have a responsibility towards Tony."

"I'm not going to tell anyone, Ms. Potts – I wouldn't do that."

"I know. That's not…" She pauses, seems to choose her words carefully. "There are very few people who appreciate Tony. Not his money or his genius or his power or his image. But _Tony_. I think he needs every last one he can get. You should do what's in your best interest. But if you decide what that is and you're not comfortable telling Tony, I'd ask that you share it with me. And let me…manage."

"Um. I'm not sure…"

Pepper's face does a complicated thing that seems to land in a place of _fuck it_. "He likes you, Peter. He likes you a great deal. He only slept this weekend because I made him. I know that may not be…what you thought was happening. God knows, it took him a decade to make things clear to _me_. You have every right to walk away or blow him off, but I would appreciate knowing your decision so I can keep him from doing anything…rash."

" _Rash?_ "

"That may have sounded bad. It's nothing to worry about. Just…if a giant bunny shows up on your doorstep, let me know."

Peter's smiling in spite of himself. "A giant bunny?"

"It was two stories tall." Pepper smiles wryly. "I don't even know how he got it into the house. He tends to overcompensate when he's afraid of losing someone."

Peter's stomach churns. He hates how he feels like a little kid again. "He really likes me?"

"Peter. We don't have an open marriage. I gave Tony permission for _you_. Because he needed it."

"Oh."

Peter finds he's desperately in need of a deep breath, unable to catch one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tickled that everyone's enjoying this. It's definitely shaping up to be the sappiest fucking thing I've written in this fandom :D

Peter's not sure who's more surprised when he lands in Tony's private lab after lunch – Tony or himself. It wasn't intentional, really. He left Pepper's office and just…found himself on Tony's floor. 

Tony freezes like a deer in the headlights when he sees him, and then sets his tools aside and.

Waits.

Peter's never really seen the man still or silent.

"I just had lunch with Pepper," he eventually says.

That seems to make Tony come unstuck. Still, he sounds shaky and not entirely himself as he jokes, "Doesn't seem like you soiled yourself, so that's a good sign."

"She was nice," Peter tells him. Hesitantly, he advances into the room.

Tony's wry. "Yeah, she can be. I'm a little in the doghouse right now."

The pizza feels heavy in Peter's stomach. "I really do – I like… I don't think it's fair when she says you've been selfish. I mean, I – "

"Pete," Tony stops him. His face is soft and fond, and for the first time, Peter believes Tony likes him. "I know. That's not…that night, Pep and I were having a conversation you weren't entirely meant to understand."

Peter's heart squeezes and he looks away. "Oh. Okay."

"Hey. C'mere for a minute, would you?" 

When Peter looks, Tony's stretching out a hand. Peter's feet carry him over, close enough for Tony to kick his rolling stool a little closer and reel him in. 

His hands bracket Peter's hips, feeling warm through his slacks. "I didn't mean that to sound like it's none of your business. It is. It's just. It's also." Tony's face does something complicated and he drops his forehead against Peter's stomach. 

Cautiously, Peter starts to stroke through his hair to lend a little comfort. Tony makes a little sound he can't classify as good or bad. 

When he turns his face up to look at Peter, Peter lets his hands drop to Tony's shoulders. It just seems less…invasive.

"Pep knows all my bruised spots already," Tony says. "Sometimes she pays me the kindness of pretending they're something else. To make it…easier to talk about. I'm not…I'm not ready to show you those things, yet."

Peter's insides ache. He touches Tony's cheek and Tony leans into it like a cat. This is all very honest, and different from their usual. It feels too soft, and dangerous. "Pepper says you like me."

Tony's smile is both warm and pained. "Well. Pepper's usually right."

"I thought this was just…"

"A dirty little secret? Yeah, I know. That seemed safer; I'm a chicken. But you… Tell me if I'm wrong, but you being here makes me think that you like me, too."

"You aren't wrong."

Tony catches the hand stroking at his cheek and presses a kiss to Peter's palm. Peter's not sure what his face is doing, but it feels tight and when Tony looks up, he immediately stands and backs Peter against the lab table.

And then he gives him the softest kiss.

Peter melts. Tony kisses him like an apology and like a declaration. No biting. No shoving, no grabbing. His hands are soft as they stroke Peter's body through his clothes. A lump builds up in Peter's throat, and just as he's about to pull away because it's too much, Tony does instead. He studies Peter's face and strokes his hair. 

Just before _that's_ too much, he's carefully folding to his knees.

He unbuttons the bottom half of Peter's shirt and kisses his stomach tenderly. The scrape of his beard just makes the brush of his lips seem much softer. Peter buries his hands in Tony's hair, feeling irrationally scared, and Tony glances up at his face before opening his fly.

Tony's mouth on his cock makes Peter gasp. He has to brace himself against the lab table, suddenly unsteady.

Tony takes his time. He takes his time and _worships_ Peter's goddamn cock. It's possibly the best blowjob of Peter's fucking life, and if Tony didn't deliberately draw it out, it probably would've been a much shorter experience. But Tony takes his time. And looks…content. Almost fucking meditative, as he drives Peter out of his ever-loving mind.

Tony eagerly swallows all of Peter's come and then keeps nursing his cock carefully til Peter begs him to stop.

He looks a little dazed when he's done, a small private smile on his mouth until he tries to get to his feet and grimaces. "Fuck. I haven't done this on tile in a long time. Jesus, my _knees_."

Peter helps him up, kind of amused but definitely choosing not to show it. Tony tucks Peter's cock away and kisses him like the encounter is done.

"I can make it up to you, if you want?" Peter offers. He toys with the rivet of Tony's jeans, because naturally Tony Stark doesn't have a dress code at work. 

Tony smiles. "Ah – yeah, not much point." When Peter frowns, Tony nods down at his fly. "Take a look."

Tony isn't wearing underwear – not unusual in itself, but when Peter spreads his fly, he sees that his dick isn't naked, either. 

"Wow. Is that…is that a biometric lock?"

"Yup," Tony says. He sounds more relaxed and amused than Peter would be with his dick in a cage. "Guess whose fingerprint opens it up?"

Peter starts to snicker a little, really can't help it. "So she…literally has your balls in a vise?"

Tony grins. "You could put it that way, if you wanted."

"So," Peter zips him up, watching Tony's face. "You guys are kinky."

Tony shrugs, a smile lingering around his mouth. "Not always. But sometimes. Sometimes it helps. She likes it. I like it. It works."

"Is that why you seem so…" Peter trails off, at a loss for the right adjective. 

"Partly." Tony wraps a big warm hand around the nape of Peter's neck and pulls him in to kiss his forehead. "The other part is because you showed up."

Peter's face warms. He feels pleased and embarrassed and unsure how to handle this 180 in their relationship. But Tony likes him. Maybe enough to buy him a giant rabbit.

"I should get back to work," he says eventually.

Tony drops another kiss on his head. "Yeah. Go invent something to make me rich."

"I think you've got that covered."

"I can always stand to sit on a larger pile of money. Get to work, minion!"

They're both grinning like idiots as the elevator doors close.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter spends his lunch break making out with Tony all week.

Just making out. After Monday's blowjob, they literally spend the rest of the week kissing and touching like teenagers. Peter's low-grade horny all the time. But when Tony doesn't offer, Peter doesn't try to escalate anything.

It's…nice, actually. Tony's sweet. And soft. And as the week goes on, Peter makes peace with the fact that he really does have actual feelings. For Peter.

Peter's dazed and flushed from kissing on Friday when Tony springs the invitation on him. He's making a valiant effort to look like he wasn't just sucking face and being felt up for an hour (though the teasing from his coworkers all week has made it clear it's a lost cause). 

Tony's just watching him. It's a lab day, no business meetings, so he doesn't have appearances to keep up. Lucky fucker.

"So, uh, before you go…Pepper wanted me to invite you to dinner tonight. Or tomorrow, if tonight's no good."

Peter pauses in grooming his just-got-fucked hair in a monitor and turns. "Dinner…with…like…both of you?"

"That's the idea, yeah." Tony looks sort of…amused but discomforted. "Weren't you just bragging that she was nice to you?" 

"Not… _bragging_. And just…I mean. Why?"

Tony opens his mouth, seems to think better of it, then closes it shut with a clack. That's not ominous. A second later, he tries again. "She wants to know you better."

"Tony, what – " The butterflies in his stomach start to riot. "What are we doing? I don't know what this is, now."

"Whatever you want, kid." Tony's smile is weak, and his voice is just a bit hollow. "But yeah, that's probably why the dinner. I can't be trusted to conduct my own…you know…"

Peter stares at him for a minute, but there's nothing else forthcoming, and Tony's avoiding his eyes.

So to sum up: he's going to his boss's house for dinner so that his boss's boss/wife can help them navigate the fate of their sexual relationship. 

Peter takes a deep breath. Might as well get it over with. "Okay. Tonight works." 

*

He doesn't get shit done for the rest of the day. And trying to choose what to wear for this clusterfuck is identical to a recurring nightmare he had in middle school.

In the end, he goes casual. He might as well be comfortable while he's dying of awkwardness. Plus, he bets they'll both go casual, too. Tony because he only wears suits when he has to, and Pepper because she seemed to want to put him at ease when they had lunch.

It's the right call. Dinner is stir-fry and white wine in the living room, seated on cushions around a low table. Pepper keeps up a steady patter of small talk, asking Peter your basic first-date questions and offering various tidbits about herself and Tony.

Tony's quiet, by Tony standards, which means he talks about as much as a normal person. Peter finds it a lot easier to look at Pepper when he answers her questions. Tony's expression makes it too easy to realize how little the two of them have shared about the personal. Work, yeah, kink, definitely. But even the most basic biographical information seems like news to Tony.

It's acutely discomforting to realize. 

"So, Peter," Pepper says as all of their plates near empty. He feels his spine straighten just a little at the subtle undercurrent of business in her tone. "We wanted to float an idea by you. But I wanted to reassure you that we're fine with however you want to proceed. There are a few things that you and Tony will need to work out, but otherwise, nothing much has to change."

Peter looks at Tony, but Tony's eyes are fixed on Pepper. He twitches, a little, when he feels Peter looking, but doesn't turn. Peter sees a movement and notices Pepper's hand tangled up with her husband's. Her thumb is stroking his knuckles, soothing.

Something inside Peter aches, but it's hard to identify the feeling.

Pepper's waiting calmly, watching, when Peter's eyes return. She looks soft in the dimmed-down light, no makeup, hair pulled back in a messy bun. 

She seems to be waiting for him to say something, though there's little he can contribute at this point. "Okay. I'm listening."

"You and Tony can continue on, just the two of you." Oh. Peter's pulse starts to pick up as he sees where this is going. "I've always been comfortable with that, and hopefully you'll be more comfortable too, knowing you're not doing anything…illicit. But if you're interested – _only_ if you're interested – I'd like to join you in some capacity."

Peter looks to Tony again, and this time, Tony's looking back. It's hard to discern exactly what he's thinking, but it's obvious he's trying to figure the same out of Peter. 

He looks back at Pepper. "What did you have in mind?"

"It depends completely on what you're comfortable with. We could just do this – dinner together, building a personal relationship. Platonic, if you like. Or, I could be present when you're intimate with Tony. Just observing, or…helping, from a distance. My participation could be more direct, but only with Tony. Sharing him, you could say." She shoots a look at her husband, and Peter watches, fascinated, as Tony _blushes_. "Or, you and I could have our own relationship. Whether it's only when Tony's present, or something independent, or both.

"Or, I can continue to make myself scarce, and this would be the last time you'd have to see me outside of the professional."

Well, that's…a full menu of options. "What do _you_ want?" he asks Pepper.

"I definitely want to build some kind of relationship. I think, from what I know of you so far, that I'd like it to be romantic and sexual. But more importantly, the thing I _don't_ want is for you be anything but completely comfortable."

Peter turns to Tony. "And you?"

Tony gives him a pale facsimile of that devil-may-care smile. "I don't see how I lose, any way you slice it." 

That's not the truth. There's a certain degree of fear underneath it, but Peter's not really sure what might scare him. _Losing someone_ , Pepper said. But that could cut so many ways. Peter looks at Pepper, then back at Tony.

"You'd be into it, the three of us? Don't bullshit or be polite. I need to know."

"Yeah, Pete. That's…if it works, that would be the best possible outcome. To me."

"Okay," Peter says softly. He looks back and forth between the two of them, trying to figure out what to say. What he's comfortable with. 

Pepper's face is settled into something encouraging and patient while she waits, and Peter suspects it's straight from her CEO repertoire when she doesn't have to play bad cop. 

Tony gets increasingly twitchy the longer Peter's silent. 

Finally, Peter addresses Pepper, who's clearly in charge of this operation. "Can we just start with you watching?"

Pepper's face softens out. "I'd love that."

Peter turns to Tony, who seems to be quivering at the end of his leash. "You gonna kiss me, or what?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol, sorry I'm an enormous cocktease. I mean, not really sorry, but...sorry.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for all the delays - I have terrible Writer's Constipation (TM) and work stress. in fact, this chapter was mostly written already, so it's not even new. :|

Peter's hyperaware that Pepper is watching as Tony pulls him across the table corner and kisses him. It's a little more urgent than the kisses they've shared all week. A little more aggressive, like it might actually lead somewhere. Peter's up on his knees before he knows it, elbow knocking into Tony's wine glass as he presses closer.

He yanks away when it falls over, but doesn't manage to catch it. Lucky it was empty.

Pepper's mouth is twitching in amusement. "Let's move to the sectional before someone hurts themselves."

They manage to get to their feet before Tony's on him again, sucking a mark into the crook of Peter's shoulder. Peter swears – not at all in objection – as they tumble onto the massive sofa. His head is almost smooshed into the corner until he shoves Tony off and shifts down to lay more comfortably. 

He feels, more than sees, Pepper settle in nearby. Mostly because Tony has his tongue down Peter's throat as soon as he's horizontal. "Tony," she says after a while. "Check in, please."

Tony pulls away immediately, panting. "Shit. Sorry." He rests his brow against Peter's. "I missed you, sweetheart."

Tony's looking him in the eye, tooclose, as he quietly confesses, and Peter struggles to breathe. 

"Have you had time to miss me?" Peter jokes.

"Yes," Tony says. Simple. Full stop.

"Oh."

When Tony kisses him again, it's a little less frantic, a little more deliberate. Reminiscent of their lunchtime makeouts. Peter feels his cheeks heat, getting oddly embarrassed by the sweetness. 

Pepper's watching.

Tony drags whiskery kisses down his throat, and Peter turns his head to give him room. Pepper isn't far away at all, tucked against the arm of the sofa's other leg, sipping a fresh glass of wine. She smiles a little when she sees him looking.

Tony slides Peter's t-shirt up his stomach and starts biting/kissing/sucking marks towards his waist. Peter gasps, attention pulled away from Pepper.

Which means he's looking right at Tony when the man starts mouthing at his cock through his jeans. 

Peter buries his fingers in Tony's fluffy hair and tries his hardest not to do something really rude. "Christ, please – Tony – "

Tony looks dazed when he sits up. "Actually, can you roll over, sweetheart?"

Peter gapes. Fuck, he wants it, but. He hadn't really expected…

He'd be embarrassed to say this to Tony, but he's mortified in front of Pepper. "I didn't, um. I'm not really…ready."

They stare at each other dumbly for two beats, then Pepper breaks in, voice honey-sweet. "Tony, is it a dealbreaker for you that Peter's ass isn't squeaky-clean?"

Tony flushes a little, eyes glazed as he shakes his head.

Oh.

_Oh_.

Fuck.

Deliberately, Peter pops his button and opens his fly, then rolls over.

He lifts his hips helpfully when Tony pulls his jeans off.

Then there's enough of a pause that Peter has to bury his face in his arms.

Tony spreads his cheeks with calloused hands, and Peter slides his leg off of the sofa – helping – then Tony is licking him out.

The sofa cushions muffle Peter's groan. 

He can't keep his hips still for long. _Jesus_ , the man is good at this. Around the time Peter starts rocking back into the sensation, he has to turn his face aside for fresh air. His breathy begging sounds are more embarrassing unobstructed.

The faintest impression of a hand near his hair makes Peter open his eyes. 

Pepper is closer, color in her cheeks. She looks a little caught out, hesitating over touching him, but she just says, "Can I?"

Peter isn't very clear what she's asking, but Tony's tongue pushes inside and Peter gasps. "Yeah, yeah, yes."

Pepper's fingers stroking through Peter's hair are perversely soothing while Tony takes him apart, piece by piece, with the most thorough rim job of Peter's life.

Peter's beyond shame. It's fine. He's dissolving into a desperate slutty mess in front of the classiest woman on earth. Whatever, fuck it.

"Fuck me. Tony, fuck me, _please_."

Peter thinks something's gone wrong when Tony and Pepper both break contact with him abruptly. He pushes up on his elbows and turns enough to see Pepper peeling Tony's jeans fly open when Tony throws his shirt aside. Tony sighs in relief as she eases the cock cage off and tosses it to the floor. He kicks his jeans off and stands pliant in her hands while she kisses him and strokes his cock.

It's hot, unexpectedly hot, but it's also…something else. Intimate. 

Married. 

Peter's insides ache a little. 

Then the moment's over, Peppers reclaiming her seat next to Peter's head. After a wordless question, helping him pull his own shirt off over his head. Tony's back on the couch, stroking a condom onto his cock and pressing kisses up Peter's spine.

His cock nudges at Peter's soft, waiting asshole and pauses. "Ready?"

Peter breathes. More than. "Yes."

Tony presses inside, inch by inch, slower and more carefully than he's ever done, body covering Peter's. By the time he's all the way inside, they're pressed together head to toe and Peter's clutching desperately at Pepper's knee.

Tony braces himself and starts to fuck Peter, slow and sensual and desperately, desperately good. Tony presses kisses all over Peter's shoulders and fucks him like he's got nothing better to do.

It's…it's a lot. Peter has to turn his face away from Pepper and breathe.

"Baby," Tony sighs out. "You're so good. Didn't I tell you he's an angel, Pep?"

"You did." Pepper's voice is soft and fond, and she's still petting Peter like a cat. "Your math is always right."

"You need to come, sweetheart?" Tony asks. Peter nods, unable to speak. "Ok, I've got you."

The pace picks up after that, but it's still…different. Rolling, not pounding. Soft and deep and sweet in a way he never expected, never thought to want. Peter rubs himself against the couch, wounded needy noises forcing themselves from his throat. 

It's almost a relief when the orgasm blows through him, deceptively intense.

Tony pulls out, as soon as Peter's done, hands stroking sweetly to help him come down. Normally, he keeps fucking Peter til it hurts, til his nerves are overtaxed and he can't take any more.

Tony presses one soft kiss to Peter's spine.

Peter sits up gasping, suddenly scared that he's going to cry. "I need… Bathroom?"

Pepper points. "Just around the corner."

He can't look at Tony, grateful when Pepper stops Tony from following him.

Peter locks himself in the bathroom, which is ridiculously roomy for a guest half-bath. His chest feels too tight. He turns the taps on full and braces against the sink, just trying to breathe. 

He's not even sure what's wrong with him. It's good. This is good. Tony likes him, and Pepper is amazing, and everything is fine.

But he can't quell the urge to just _flee_.

They both look up, startled, when Peter bursts out of the bathroom. Tony looks scared. "Peter, talk to me. What – "

"I just. Need to go home." Peter pulls his jeans on without trying to find his boxers, and hunts down his shirt. He doesn't bother putting it on, just grabs it. "Sorry, I – thanks for dinner. And. I just. I need to."

Peter catches the restraining grip Pepper has on Tony's arm, and she's already murmuring something stern to him as Peter turns and…not-runs. He picks up his shoes from by the door and quickly heads outside, pausing to pull on his shirt and shove his feet into his sneakers. 

He startles when the front door opens, spilling light into the drive, but it's Pepper, not Tony.

She closes the door behind her, padding barefoot towards him. His throat feels tight. "I'm sorry, I know I'm being…rude. I just. I need…"

"To go home," she finishes for him. "It's fine. Don't worry about us. Are you okay to drive? I can call a car."

He can't look at her. "I'm okay." His voice is all wavery like he's a kid about to cry. "Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me."

His breath hitches a little when she pulls him into a hug. 

It's a really good hug. His arms wind around her without his permission, and he buries his face in her shoulder. 

He's trying really hard not to cry. He might be squeezing too tight. She just rocks them back and forth like a silent promise that everything's fine.

One sob slips out before he chokes it back.

"Tony used to get a panic attack," Pepper says. Her voice is soft and confidential. "Every time the sex was…sweet. It's easier for him, when it seems like it's nothing. He might not be the only one, hmm?"

Peter has to tear himself away, all of a sudden. She lets him. Lets him retreat and hug his elbows.

"Shit," he says, something hitting him. "I didn't… He didn't even come." It's not like he can go back inside…

Pepper snorts. "Peter, that's – don't worry about that. I guarantee he's not even thinking about that right now."

Because he's scared that Peter's leaving. "I gotta go. Tell him… I just…"

Pepper kisses his cheek; she smells good. "I've got him. Can you text when you get home? So we know you got there safe?"

Peter nods, watching her go back inside. Even before the door's closed, he can hear Tony's voice, high and worried, questioning. It closes, but he can hear Pepper's sharp response, before it drops to something more soothing.

Peter takes a deep breath and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently, the kid is a runner in this, lol. I can't make him hold still, post-coital.


End file.
